


Morning After

by ZoeSong



Category: C.B. Strike (TV), Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV)
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Romance, Snogging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 16:46:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18014600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeSong/pseuds/ZoeSong
Summary: Robin’s divorce is final and she goes out to “celebrate.” She may have had a few too many.





	Morning After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LulaIsAKitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/gifts).



> This had been in the works for a while when LulaIsAKitten declared that it was time for Robin to get drunk and posted, “Just Go to Him.” I got inspired to polish this up, but then got waylaid by other things. Then she posted, “The Doom Bar Deflection” in the “Near Misses” series, and I decided to finally finish this. I hope you like it. Thanks for the inspiration, Lulacat!

~~

 

Something was bothering Robin. She was trying to sleep, her eyes screwed tightly shut, but the light was intruding. She tugged on the duvet cover to try to block her face, but something was impeding its movement – something big and solid. Forcing herself to open her eyes, she was startled to find Strike staring intently at her. 

“’Morning,” he said, with a warm smile.

He had been watching her sleep, marveling at how the sun glinted on her lovely hair and how peaceful she looked lying there next to him. He wished he could wake up next to her every day.

“’Morning,” she said uncertainly, blinking and cringing at the light. She looked around and realized that she was in Strike’s flat – and in his bed. “H…how did I get here?”

“I brought you. You were in no fit state to go home alone.”

She nodded carefully, protecting her aching head. A little pang of worry struck her. Why was she in his bed? With him? Did anything happen? Moving a little, she realized that she was fully clothed, aside from her shoes, and she relaxed a little. But only a little.

“Nothing happened.” Strike must have been reading her mind.

“Oh.” She had a vague recollection of something having gone on, but perhaps she was only imagining it. She did that sometimes. Putting her hands over her face, she massaged her head.

“Headache? Want some paracetamol?”

“Maybe in a bit.”

He nodded and smiled, still staring at her. 

Robin glanced away and tried to remember what happened the night before. They were in the Tottenham, she remembered that. And she had had two glasses of wine, or was it three? And yes, she thought she remembered him insisting that she come back to his, because it was closer. And she said some silly things and they…. 

She raised her head a little and caught his eye. “Are you sure nothing happened?”

“Why, what do you remember?” Was there a gleam in his eye?

She blushed, wondering if she just dreamed it.

He grinned. “You know, a bit of ‘en vino veritas’ and…there may have been a bit of snogging. Was that what you remembered happening?”

Blushing again, Robin nodded.

“But that’s as far as it went.” He paused, trying to read her eyes. “Would you prefer not to remember that? If so, I can try to pretend it didn’t happen.”

Robin looked a bit stricken. “Would _you_ prefer not to remember?”

“No.” His eyes were dancing. 

She shook her head slowly, smiling tremulously. “I wouldn’t either. And…” she looked at him through her lashes, “I would like to remember a little better.”

He smiled. And leaned over for a kiss. It was light and sweet and made her feel….

“Ugh…oh!” She pulled away abruptly, put her hand over her mouth, and mumbled, “I need the loo!” She climbed clumsily out of the bed, slightly hindered by the duvet, and made a graceless dash to the bathroom, trying desperately to shut the door before all hell broke loose, and just barely succeeding. Afterwards, she sat back on her heels on the floor gasping for breath for a few minutes.

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door. “Robin, you okay? I’ve brought you a glass of water.”

“Oh, just a minute.” She was mortified. “I’m so sorry!”

“Robin, it’s okay.” Strike’s voice through the door was kind, patient. 

Robin managed to get to her feet and pulled the door open. Strike handed her the water. “Thanks.” 

She took a sip of the water and just stood there in the doorway for a moment, holding onto the doorjamb tightly to steady herself.

Strike stood outside the door. “Alright?” 

She nodded ruefully. “‘En vino veritas’ my ass – it should be ‘en vino vomitus.’”

Strike chuckled. “I suppose it’s both, isn’t it? It starts with one and finishes with the other. C’mon back to bed, I’ll tuck you up again.” He offered her his arm and guided her back to bed.

Strike tucked her up and Robin looked up at him, marveling at how kind and gentle he was. “Thanks. You’re a very good person,” consciously echoing what he’d said to her that night when he’d been drunk at the Tottenham.

“Even if my kisses make you sick.”

“Oh!” She covered her face with her hands. “Sorry!”

“I’m just kidding.” He sat down on the bed beside her. “You seemed to like them last night.”

Robin kept her face hidden. She peeked through her fingers. “I wish I could remember properly – how many glasses of wine did I _have_?”

“Four.”

“Four!” She gasped. “No wonder. Why didn’t you try to talk me out of it?”

“I did, but you were quite determined. You had started by saying you were drinking to celebrate and commiserate, and were having a glass for each. Then you wanted a third and after that said you had to keep them even.”

“Oh, god, what a time for my sense of fair play to assert itself.”

Strike laughed softly. “But that’s one of the things I like best you about you. You always want to do right by people. Even when they don’t deserve it. You dedicated that last one to Matthew.”

“Did I? For what? For divorcing me?”

“For being a little less difficult during the proceedings than you’d expected.”

“Ah. Was that celebrating or commiserating?”

“I couldn’t say. You were rather funny though.”

“Oh, that’s me, always being funny. Is that how we ended up snogging?”

“Yes – with what you’d said about me – you were funny and sweet, and I couldn’t resist.”

Robin groaned. “I might be funny, but I can’t imagine that I’m very sweet just now.”

“Yes, you are.” Strike leaned over to try to kiss her again.

She turned her head and his kiss landed on her cheek. “My breath must be awful.”

“I don’t mind. But you’re not feeling well, so we’ll postpone this until you are.” He settled back on the bed. “I’ll get up and make some tea in a bit if you like.”

“That would be lovely. But I really should go home and sort myself out.”

“No, stay. Don’t spoil the magic.”

She chortled weakly. “Yeah, I’m so magical just now.”

“Well, but you might come to your senses and decide this was a mistake.”

“Or you might!” 

“No. I won’t. But I like having you here in my bed, even if it’s just to sleep.”

Robin sighed happily. “Me too.” She yawned. “To sleep. Err, I mean, I like being here too.” 

“It’s okay. You can go back to sleep if you like. Probably should get some more water or tea in you first, though.”

She nodded and he helped her sit up enough to drink more of the water, then she settled back against the pillow. But she didn’t fall asleep. “So what do we do now?”

“Sleep.”

“No, I mean…”

“Whatever you like. We take it as fast or as slow as you like. I’m ready for anything with you, but I know the divorce wasn’t that long ago, so take whatever time you need to feel comfortable with things.”

Tears filled her eyes. 

Strike turned on his side and stroked her hair gently. “Hey, we don’t have to decide anything now. Just rest.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek and slid down beside her, resting his hand on her arm. 

And Robin found that she could do just that, safe in the knowledge that he would be there when she woke up. She let her eyes slide shut as the sun danced on the duvet cover and Cormoran’s hand caressed her arm. 

 

~~

**Author's Note:**

> While none of my Strike fic is strictly connected, I tend to think this might be the way Strike and Robin got together that eventually led to “Pregnant Pause.”


End file.
